


On the House

by philsgiggles



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Phil Lester, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Daddy Kink, Feminization, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Pain Kink, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Strangers to Lovers, Writer Dan Howell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsgiggles/pseuds/philsgiggles
Summary: An adorable boy in yellow comes into Phil's coffee shop one day and sits there, typing furiously on his laptop. The next day, he comes in again and does the same. And the next day. But what is he typing? And why does he keep coming back? And why does Phil feel himself falling a little bit more for the boy every day?





	1. Laptops, Flower Crowns, and Caramel Macchiatos

**Author's Note:**

> I ADORE both cute coffee shop au's and pastel/punk so it seemed a natural progression to write a combination of the two myself!
> 
> Quick warning: if you're here for the smut, the first few chapters won't have any, but I wanted to preemptively mark this as dirty so people that don't want the smut won't get freaked out later on. But subscribe and I'll make sure to mark when the smut starts!
> 
> Check out my Tumblr @moonroomsnuggles!!

“Hey, man, welcome to Lester Coffee, what can I get you?” Phil looked up, bored out of his mind, at the newest customer. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight before him, and his tongue flicked over his snakebites, a nervous habit.

The boy was standing in front of him with his shoulders back confidently, though his eyes told a different story. They were roving anxiously, hardly meeting Phil’s own. He had a light yellow flower crown resting on his soft curls, and his white skinny jeans went perfectly with the oversized yellow sweater that hung off of the boy’s lithe frame, baring his delicate collarbones to the cool air of the coffee shop.

“Extra large caramel macchiato please,” the boy ordered, his brash tone clashing with his sweet exterior.

Snapping himself back into his public self, Phil winked and said, “Sure, honey, on the house.”

The boy rolled his eyes and nodded, obviously not impressed with Phil's tough exterior. Phil didn’t mind, not really. Sure, his tattoos and piercings, of which there were many, drew some stares, but he loved them. They showed exactly who he was, and he was proud of them. After all, who wouldn’t want an adorable Pokéball on their arm? (It was in full color and looked amazing.)

Phil went about the motions to make the drink and stride over to where the brunet had situated himself by the door. He slid it across the table to the boy sitting in the booth, who grabbed it and nodded to Phil before leaning back against the window and pulling out a computer. He proceeded to ignore the black-clad boy looming above him and began to gaze at the screen in thought.

Phil turned around and walked back to behind the counter. Another customer entered and he occupied himself dealing with them, and after he had whipped up their drink, he left his position to deliver it. They were sitting across the shop from the brunet and, unlike the previous customer, they engaged Phil in conversation. They made pleasant small talk for a bit, and the customer made sure to “accidentally” brush Phil’s hand where it rested on the table. After that, Phil made sure to add a smooth quality to his voice that wasn’t there before and sent a few cheeky winks in their direction. When another customer entered and he was needed behind the counter, Phil regretfully slinked off to fulfil his duties as the barista.

It was only him in the original shop now that his older brother, Martyn, was off in another region to try to build another store like the little coffee shop. They already had over twenty all across the country, and were still going strong. The meeting was going well, so Phil wouldn’t have to man it alone for much longer. Not that he minded, not really, as he loved being a barista. Phil refused to take a day off or hire someone else, preferring to be there in person and connect with his fellow coffee lovers. Besides, it was good exercise to run all over the shop to deliver the drinks.

When he looked out from his post behind the pastry display case, he saw a pair of brown eyes staring at him thoughtfully. Once he caught the boy’s gaze, he quickly looked back at his computer screen, typing so fast that Phil was worried for his lithe fingers.

Phil stared for a second before shaking his head quickly to dislodge his thoughts from where they had hooked onto the brunet. The new customer gave him a strange look and ordered quickly, not bothering to stay inside the shop and leaving quickly with their coffee after picking it up themselves.

Soon after, the second customer left, as well, but the curly-haired boy stayed, still typing quietly on his computer. One by one, all of the customers left to go about their day, and more came in, and more left. But still, the laptop boy stayed, in the same position with his laptop open, leaning against the frozen window and sipping on his sugary drink.

Eventually however, after what was essentially a delicious jug of sugar was down to its last legs, he did leave the little shop. He shut his laptop wearily and shoved it into the little pink sleeve he carried before chucking out his drink and walking out. He didn’t even look at Phil on his way out the door.

Phil couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Sure he might look tough but rejection stung worse than a tattoo needle. Phil frowned and continued his task of wiping down a table in the back.

 

           ***

 

The next day, his keys jangling in his hand, Phil pushed his way through the doors to his shop. He flicked on the lights and winced at the pain it caused his too-sensitive morning eyes. He tied his apron around his waist. He turned on his machines. Everything was normal and peaceful… until a certain pastel boy paced through the door. Phil opened the doors to the shop at five thirty every morning (if he could drag himself out of bed, that is), but never really expected customers until at least a half hour later. But, here he was! In the little coffee shop with the boy from yesterday at 5:37 AM.

Phil could only blink blearily when the boy walked in, unable to process the events unfolding. It must have been his early morning messing with his eyes, because _how can someone look that fricking adorable without a fucking Snapchat filter or something?_

He was clad in all blue this time, of varying shades, from his light blue skinny jeans to his darker blue sweater to his flower crown alternating between the color of his pants and an even lighter blue, almost white.

“Extra large caramel macchiato.” He said, commanding Phil’s attention sternly.

“Mmhmm,” Phil murmured, still struggling to wake up fully, “Coming right up, babe.”

Once again, the other man raised an eyebrow silently, though this time it seemed to be more judgmental of the pet name in particular. Phil turned around and noticed the expression on his face.

“Sweetie cakes? Cutie pie?” Phil asked, smirking, “Those any better to you?”

“Mm,” the boy said, “Keep trying, maybe you’ll get it right.”

“I’ll do that, princess,” Phil said in a deep voice and smiled fully, turning around for the next step in making the drink. When he turned around next, however, he noticed the strange expression on the other’s face. His face paled and his lips pressed together in a straight line.

“Huh,” Phil drawled, realization dawning, “Well, tha—”

“Here!” The customer yelped, cutting Phil off, “Here.” He shoved money at him frantically.

Phil only smirked wider and said, “That’s okay, _baby boy_ , I’ll get this one.”

The brunet could only stammer and blush and eventually slank back off to the seat he occupied the day before, gripping his laptop sleeve tightly.

Phil chuckled softly and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sight before his time was occupied by a horde of people swarming the shop for their before-work caffeine fix.

Phil took a deep breath and pasted a huge smile on his face, fighting to be less intimidating. He dealt with customer upon customer, all of who were fighting to get to work on time and had no patience for mistakes. He managed it all with no error until Her. She came into Phil’s shop every morning, despite her complains that it was the “worst coffeehouse in the world” and always demanded perfection. Phil watched her enter in slow-motion and his smile slowly slid off of his face as he prepared for battle.

“Medium house roast with one caramel shot, one vanilla shot, half almond milk and half soy milk, two sugars, and ice filling only a quarter of the cup—don’t try to skimp me out on my coffee!” She said in her throaty voice, and Phil just looked at her blankly. He sent a helpless look over her shoulder at the brunet, who only sipped his coffee and shrugged. Phil caught the small smile tugging at at the corners of his mouth and imitated it subtly before having to snap to action making the demanding order.

After one attempt that had to be thrown out, Phil finally perfected the drink and presented it proudly to the lady. His face split into a hopeful smile and Hers softened a bit. Phil let himself hope, but as soon as he saw her disgusted expression at consuming the concoction, his face fell. This morning however, unlike those before, all that occurred was a meeting of a disappointed look and a sad one before the doors swung open and She was gone.

Phil pouted slightly and meandered to his regular spot behind the pastries to wait for the next customer. The brunet was still looking, yet typing simultaneously on his ever-present laptop.

Hours passed and the commuter traffic, then the lunch breakers, and by the time the shop was settling into its after-school boost, the brunet was still there, still sipping from the same cup.

But, like all good things in the end, the boy left an hour or so later–– with a curiously triumphant look on his face that Phil treasured. The two didn't say goodbye, but Phil caught it when he turned through the window for a split second to glance back at the black-haired boy.

Phil played with his snakebites and smiled a small smile, happy to be playing whatever little game he was playing with his coffee shop boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More coming soon! And I promise there'll be some (*cough cough* a lot *cough cough*) smut in the future. This one I won't put on a schedule, so subscribe for a nice surprise sometime next week! :) Kudos and comments make me happier than a Phil watching slime videos at 3 AM.


	2. Another Day of Dan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day at Lester Coffee! For those of you subscribed that are waiting for da smut, this kicks off with a lil masturbation, but for the most part, it doesn't warrant the explicit rating. Just wait, I promise I won't leave you without smut for too long!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me to write more smut at my Tumblr @moonroomsnuggles! Enjoy, my sweets!

“Mm—” Phil caught his bottom lip in his teeth and tied to hold in his moans. He had always been loud in bed and even when it was just him, he could hardly keep himself from groaning far too loud.

He threw his head back against the white wall of his shower and felt the back of it thump harshly against the plastic-y tile. His black hair was plastered to his head from both sweat and the pulsing water. He kept moving, sliding his palm up and down his hard length and enjoyed the almost painful friction of the cascading water on his cock. He rubbed his thumb over the head and groaned softly.

“Oh—oh!” He bit his lip harder as he felt the delicious, warm feeling he knew well begin to form in his stomach. His toes curled and he drew a bit of blood on his lip from the effort to remain quiet. His apartment building was notorious for its thin walls, which, although it got him cheap rent, made it very difficult to keep any semblance of privacy.

He shivered and shook as he tried to hold off his orgasm. He prided himself on his ability to delay his own pleasure, and he held it off until he saw spots in the corners of his eyes. His knees weakened. His breath grew faster. Finally, he let himself go, groaning louder than he should have as his poor, abused cock jerked and spat thick white semen.

He panted and stood there, looking out through closed eyes. He stood there, exhausted for a minute before moving to clean himself off. He quickly showered the proof of his actions off and jumped out. He toweled off and scurried into his bedroom, grabbing his phone off of his sink as he did so. He checked the time.

 _Oh crap_.

Phil sprinted across his room and grabbed his glasses off his bedside table before dashing into his closet and grabbing the first outfit he saw. Thankfully it ended up not being _too_ horrible, just black skinny jeans and a red button-up with a bright yellow print.

After he had squeezed and shimmied his way into his jeans, he tore out of his bedroom towards his front door and pulled his shirt on over his head as he ran, as well as the pointy name tag. He only poked himself with it a few times. Phil grabbed his keys from their position by his new fern, Susan 6, flung open the heavy wooden door and flew downstairs. Phil barely remembered to lock it as he went, and he was glad he did. He’d already had a few instances where he’d forgotten and there was nothing worse than coming home and realizing that someone’s been in your apartment while you were gone.

_I guess I’ll just pick up whatever I’ve forgotten later. It’s not like I live very far away from the coffee shop, anyway._

Phil flew down the stairs two at a time, somehow managing to keep himself from face-planting as he went. In fact, even though he was the clumsiest person he knew, he made it down safely. Relatively safely, at least, as his foot snagged on the bottom step as he ran down it, pinwheeling him around until he got his balance. He raced through the front door of his building and set a hard pace to Lester Coffee.

His chest heaved as he neared the familiar glass doors just a few minutes later, and he slowed to a jog. He made his way to the entrance and his vision tunneled into just _get it open, get it open_ as he shoved the keys into the lock inelegantly. At first, they wouldn’t fit quite right, and Phil grunted in frustration and slammed them in harder without thinking.

He heard a laugh from his right and he looked to see the brunet from the days before leaning against the brick nonchalantly, an angel in pink and lilac. His computer sleeve was dangling from fingertips and looked like it was about to fall.

“What?” Phil growled, exasperated and annoyed from the early morning and the stress of being late. His post-orgasm high had quickly faded, and he was left grumpy and in need of another shower to help calm his thoughts. But the brunet only smiled and motioned to the keys.

“May I?” He asked lightly. Wordlessly, Phil handed the keys over and took a step back to mirror the boy’s position against the wall on the other side. The boy in question pushed himself off the wall and took the warm keys from the other man’s hands softly. He slowly inserted them into the knob, grinning at Phil as he did so, and chuckling quietly when he heard a soft _clink_. He turned the knob and gestured Phil in with a flourish and a small bow.

Phil laughed and said, “Thanks, baby.” He let himself in and began the lengthy process of setting up the shop for business. While he was still turned around and messing about with the machines, he came across an intriguing thought that made him pause for a moment.

“So do I get to know the name of the mysterious pastel boy who comes in every day, or what?” Phil threw over his shoulder. His tongue poked out as he set about fixing the settings on the machine he was screwing with. Somehow they always got out of whack, and he had no clue how, but he was determined to fix them.

“Daniel. Or Dan’s good, too, _Phil_ ,” he heard from behind him. Phil stopped short and turned around, a question on his lips. Seeming to be expecting that reaction, Daniel was circling a finger at Phil’s chest. Phil’s voice died in his throat as he looked down to see the coffee shop's name tag sitting proudly on his chest.

“Right, right… ” Phil muttered and turned around with a beet-red face. He eventually gave up on the delinquent machine and made a mental note to buy a new one online that night. After a few more moments of putzing about and setting up the shop, Phil turned and placed his arms wide on the glass pastry display and smiled invitingly at Daniel.

The brunet was startled and looked, confused, at Phil, but then rushed to break the silence that had been hanging for several minutes.

“Right, an extra large caramel macchiato, then,” he said after clearing his throat. Phil saw Daniel’s hand begin to reach for his pocket, and said, “Dan, do you really think that I would let you pay for it?”

Daniel gave him a look that Phil couldn’t quite decipher, nodded curiously, and made his way to his regular spot by himself. He swung his computer onto the table and opened it leisurely.

By the time Phil had made the drink, with an extra pump of smooth caramel for good measure, Dan was already on his laptop. He used two fingers to scroll and Phil could see his eyes dancing around the screen eagerly. As Phil strolled up to the little table, Daniel looked up at him with a pleased expression.

Phil placed the drink down in front of the brunet with a smirk before turning smoothly and walking back to his usual spot. He leaned against the cold glass and slapped on a smile for the customer he saw outside.

They came in in a rush, completely decked out in athletic wear. There was sweat dripping from their brow and Phil felt himself subconsciously prepare. He lifted slightly onto the balls of his feet and his eyes narrowed in preparation, as though he was about to run a marathon, rather than serve an energetic customer.

When he realized what he was doing, he immediately stopped, embarrassed. He pulled his shoulders back as the customer approached and twisted his face again into his patented Barista Smile. The customer smiled back happily and the corners of Phil’s eyes crinkled. It was too rare that a customer showed any kind of manners or kindness to the workers behind the counter, and Phil always appreciated those who did.

“Hey, could I get a medium house coffee, black, please?” They said in a bright tone, despite the fact that the sun was barely glimmering over the city skyline. They offered the requisite amount and Phil took it, opening the register with an optimistic chime.

“Coming right up,” Phil assured and, with another flash of a toothy smile, whirled around to grab the coffee. It took only a minute and as he was still securing the lid on the steaming black liquid, he was quickly approaching the jogger.

They nodded and thanked Phil quickly with another smile before they headed out the door, merrily on their way.

Phil looked as they paced away, a small smile still present on his face. He let out a soft sigh and meandered back to his home behind the croissants. He turned his gaze to Daniel, still plopped down in his seat.

He was looking at Phil almost dreamily. The corners of his eyes crinkled and a dimple— _he has a fricking_ dimple—appeared in his cheek. Phil contentedly watched the boy, but to his dismay, Daniel looked away after a moment and back to his laptop.

Phil just looked for a few seconds more before remembering himself. He turned back to his surreptitious game of Solitaire that was conveniently hidden behind the register. Phil stared at his cards, puzzled, for a minute, before finally deciding on the right course of action. He moved the six over a column, leaving the seven open to— _aha! Got it!_

He triumphantly looked down at the deck of cards laid out in front of him. He cheered silently for himself before realizing that… he still had a while to go. Undeterred, Phil set off on a daring mission to conquer Solitaire once and for all.

That is, until a group of customers walked in and Phil saw Daniel still looking his way. He sent a happy wink and started on the group’s drinks.

Today was going to be a good day.

 

***

 

The lunchtime rush was ending and Phil found himself by Daniel, wiping the surrounding tables clean of the sticky mess. He had a rag tossed over his left shoulder and another in his right hand, which was currently being used to mop up some sort of brown liquid that was in the process of solidifying onto the table. His left hand was gripping tight to a spray bottle filled with his special formula for cleaning up the shop’s messy tabletops after the customers had all left.

Phil blew a strand of his dyed black hair out from in front of his eyes and leaned down further, scrubbing at the stubborn mark. He looked up at Daniel from under his fringe to see him looking across at him, as well, and the intensity of the moment made even Phil, the king of sexual tension, almost uncomfortable. In a good way.

Phil looked into Daniel’s eyes, holding his gaze steady and exploring the other boy’s eyes. They were mysterious in a way, and Phil had no idea what lay behind them. Phil craved desperately to be allowed to just _look_ the way he was doing at the boy forever. As soon as his brain processed this fact, Phil blinked himself back into reality.

_Phil, what the fuck?_

Phil cleared his throat and said, “So, what are you working on that laptop of yours?”

“Mm,” Daniel said, “I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”

Phil walked in front of him and used his standing position to assert himself, propping himself up with his arms on either side of Daniel and murmured, “Oh, baby, I’d like to see you try.”  
 

The men’s breathing intertwined, along with their gazes once more, for a charged moment…  before Phil smiled and pushed himself away. He returned to the mess on the nearby table he had been working at cleaning, leaving Daniel to quickly try to fill the silence.

“A novel,” Daniel stated, “I’m working on a novel.” Phil paused in his efforts and looked at Daniel disbelievingly.

“Huh. What’s it about?” Phil inquired.

“Ooh, now _that_ I _really_ can’t say.” Daniel took a large sip of his drink and, with a flourish, returned to his writing.

_A novel, huh? Is there anything he can’t do?_

With one last appraising look, Phil smiled, shrugged, and kept scrubbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & comments make me happier than a Dan having a furry threesome!


	3. The Beautiful Boy and Crazy Traditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut will come eventually, I promise... My tumblr's fun @moonroomsnuggles!! Enjoy, my sweets...

Phil leaned on the counter, wearily rubbing his face with his hands. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The glass fogged. He pinched his eyes with one hand before forcefully pushing himself off of the display case. He yawned. And closed the register with a mechanical click.

Dan had left hours earlier and the last straggling insomniac had left just moments before, leaving Phil alone in the shop. These long days were exhausting, and Phil’s love for his business was constantly tried. Just once, he’d like to try having an adult life outside of the walls of the cozy shop. But it had always been their policy to close the doors only when the last customer left after closing time came round, and Phil would never do anything to jeopardize Lester Coffee in any way, no matter how small. The business was his and Martyn’s creation together, and he loved it like a child. And the money he got when it did well didn’t exactly hurt, either.

Phil snapped his eyes back to focus and wobbled on his feet. He stumbled over to the machines and… what was he there to do again? Oh, that’s right. He switched them off one by one with satisfying clicks echoing in his ears. He noticed then cleaned at a stubborn spot on the counter before promptly giving up, his tired arms hanging bonelessly beside him.

He went to the door. He left. _No!_ He walked back in. He picked up his phone and keys from behind the counter. He went to the door. He put his phone in his pocket. He locked the door with the key. _No, not that key. No. No. There we go!_ He locked the door with the key.

 _Wait. No, that’s not right._ He unlocked the door with the key. He went through the door to the street. _Now_ he locked the door. He turned around and blearily careened home.

 _Wait, what about his phone? No!_ He turned around and sighed. He started walking back to the shop. He stopped. He patted his pocket. _Oh_. He turned back around and walked up the stairs to his apartment. He leaned against the wall next to his door and put the key in the lock. _Wait. Huh?_ The key didn’t work. He was at the wrong door? He pushed himself off of the wall and started walking away. He stopped. He went back to the door and tried another key. The door unlocked! And he practically sprinted inside.

He found himself in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He noted the deep bags under his eyes, the dark scruff on his chin, the red-white of his eyes, his tousled hair. He looked an absolute mess. He smiled. He wouldn’t give any of this up for anything in the world.

 

***

 

_I’m late. Again. I’m late again. Late again. Late again!_

Phil repeated the little mantra in his head as he squirmed into his pants. This pair was uncomfortably tight (a past boyfriend said they looked “hot as _fuck_ ”, and really, what did Phil know?), and to make matters worse, Phil had woken up panting and hard from a particularly exciting dream. He wasn’t exactly small to begin with, but in the tight pants, the length on display was absolutely obscene.

Phil hurried to find a top to cover the large bulge that didn’t seem to be going away any time soon. He rifled through a few shirts hurriedly before spotting a baggy maroon sweatshirt with a design from a band he used to like a few years ago that brushed against the middle of his thighs when he put it on. It would do. He quickly sprayed on deodorant and rushed to the bathroom.

After fluffing his hair up with his fingers and a rushed teeth-brushing session, Phil was out the door. And then he was back _in_ the door when he realized he wasn’t wearing shoes.

So he shoved his feet into clunky black shoes and ran back out. Thankfully he managed to remember to make sure to take his keys and phone with him and lock the door behind him.

And then he was running again. He careened side to side as he panted his way to the beacon that was Lester Coffee. He dodged past joggers and the occasional bleary-eyes early-morning commuter. And when he finally arrived, he was greeted by a familiar boy, who was resting on the nearby wall again. His eyes were closed and one knee was bent ever-so-slightly. He looked like… nothing Phil had ever seen even came close to how beautiful Dan looked in that moment. The early morning light bounced off his fluffy curls and caressed his face, lending its warm glow to his delicate cheekbones. Dan’s long eyelashes, subtly enhanced with mascara, were resting gently on the skin beneath. His lips had a slight light pink tint and as Phil watched, his pink tongue wetted them. Dan opened his eyes and looked into Phil’s.

Neither man said a word for a moment. Phil could feel himself tuning into the highlighted brown of Dan’s eyes. He could stay there forever, and he would if it weren’t for his shop. But that didn’t seem to matter to Phil now. In fact, he could barely even remember why the two were there.

The rest of the world faded away and all Phil could see was _brownandgoldandpinkandbrownandgoldandpink_. The swirl of color and the strange, lovely feeling taking Phil over blended together and, though it was in fact just a quick moment, Phil could swear he had been standing there for a lifetime. The ever-present bulge in his pants only grew in appreciation, and Phil shivered at the sudden wave of arousal that passed over him when he noticed the long expanse of neck uncovered by his plush sweater.

Suddenly, Phil remembered himself regretfully with a small physical shake. And out of habit, he smirked his trademark smirk and made a show of appraising the pink and white sight in front of him. He looked Dan up and down, dragging his eyes slowly, “You just couldn’t stay away, could you, baby boy?”

But Dan didn’t have a response. Instead, he was staring at Phil with a peculiar expression on his face. He seemed almost intrigued at something. Lest the self-conscious questions of why Dan was wearing that expression overtake him, Phil turned away quickly and made short work of the lock.

He pushed the door open and held it out for Dan to enter. Dan peeled off the wall smoothly and flowed through the entryway gracefully. He watched over his shoulder, stood at the counter, as Phil went about the motions of opening up the shop. He flicked on the machines, turned around the cute little sign announcing their open state to the world, and hurried back behind the counter. Deciding it was about time, Phil found the annoying little spot and vowed to attack at it later with some spray. But before he could do that, a caramel macchiato was in order.

After an excessive amount of sugary syrups and creams (plus a touch of coffee, too), was served up, piping hot this time, in the traditionally enormous jug, of course, without payment on Dan’s part, Dan regressed to his little booth to work. The drink was steaming in front of him, blurring his facial features as he walked. Phil shook his head at the sugar-sweet sentiment, but Dan was so beautiful that Phil could hardly believe he lived on the same planet as someone like that.

_God, Phil, get your mind back into the gutter before you fall for this guy!_

 

***

 

Throughout the day, Dan served as a constant for Phil. When the barrage of customers got so much that Phil could hardly breathe from the stifling crowd, all he had to do was look across the room. Dan would always be lost in thought, staring off into space, but when he noticed Phil’s gaze, he’d give him a reassuring look and air filled Phil’s lungs again.

It was a major town holiday that night, where most people in town would stay up all night with friends. It stemmed from a horrible tragedy no one remembered sometime two hundred years ago, and the tradition grew so much that if one were to go to sleep before five AM or so, the consequences inflicted upon them by family and friends would be worse than any sleep deprivation. Every year, four or five people would always walk into their school or place of business with vulgar Sharpie inked onto their faces––a few times, heads were completely shaved! Phil remembered years ago when his neighbor tried to perform a citizen’s arrest on her own son for falling asleep early.

Every year since the coffee shop opened, it was swamped with hordes of people pouring caffeine down their throats in a last-ditch attempt to get some energy. And every year before, Phil had other people in the shop with him, all running around like crazy to get all the orders out––and even then it was crazy! But this year, Phil was alone, due to Martyn’s absence and his own forgetting to hire people. He was constantly kicking himself on the inside. The crowd got rowdy, drinks were spilled, and Phil was completely in over his head.

But that was nothing compared to what would happen in the little shop after sundown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Phil with a glowing ear!


	4. One Crazy Night of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of people trying to stay awake all night + Phil being the only barista = one crazy fucking night for him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screwy mental health + finals = a late post for Rosie, but this is gonna be a whole lot more regular now! :) Anyway, come check out my Tumblr @moonroomsnuggles! Enjoy, my sweets...

Phil made an involuntary squeaking noise as the hot drink wobbled and threatened to crash to the floor, “Ah!”

Quick on his feet, he maneuvered it back into the tray and kept doing his awkward half-jog to drop it off. Too many drinks had already been sacrificed to the Floor God that night from Phil’s stressed running, and he wasn’t anxious for a repeat. At times like these, he wished he could just leave it on the counter for everyone, not just the to-go orders, but the customers seemed to appreciate the table service, so running drinks back and forth it was. At least for now, that is. Tonight was making him regret ever listening to the customers, the same customers that were right now forcing him to work at the speed of Sonic on steroids.

He finally dropped off the drinks to what he thought was the right table, and scurried back to the register to face the ever-growing line of impatient assholes getting pissed at Phil for _doing the best he could!_ Phil felt himself growing angry at them in turn, and tried desperately to get himself back under control. His piercings and tough exterior already gave some customers pause, and letting his infamous glare out on one of them would prove disastrous. But he couldn’t help the small smolder he sent out as he took the next few peoples’ orders and sent them on their way. If nothing else, it made them order a little faster, at least.

Once the people crowding his register had left to search for an empty seat in the packed cafe, Phil set to work. He poured and mixed and blended and ran all over. He was panting and sweat was beginning to form in little beads on his temples. And for every drink he finished, another would be ordered, and Phil was so far behind on the queue that some people were hovering by the doors, tempted to leave. So an anxious Phil just kept pouring and mixing and blending and _running_ even faster. Until he couldn’t handle it and his lungs almost gave out on him.

But this was _his_ goddamn coffee shop, and he was going to keep pouring and mixing and running until his legs collapse under his and his voice goes hoarse from deflecting complaints. Who knew coffee could be so fucking intense? Phil needed to work out more.

But right now, he would give just about anything for Martyn to be home and to help him out. Cause Lord knows he needed it.

“Phil!” Phil turned his head and saw Dan slipping through the partition between the barista’s domain and the ravenous mob in the seating area. He was donning the requisite brightly-colored apron and strode up to Phil determinedly as he tied it behind his back, lithe fingers looping it effortlessly.

“Phil,” he said while grabbing a nearby cup plastic with a name scrawled onto it in Phil’s messy handwriting, “I can help.” _Even better._

“Ah! Yes, thank you, Dan. Wash your hands back there and take some orders,” Phil relaxed slightly, incredibly relieved, but kept moving. They were still behind.

He saw Dan hastily wash his hands and scurry back to the register, “Welcome to Lester Coffee, what can I get you?”

Even in his hurry, Phil couldn’t help but stop in his tracks for a split second. Hearing Dan say his last name like that… No. He had to keep moving.

Once Dan had finished with the cluster congregated around the register, he started preparing drinks with no hesitation. Well, with some hesitation, as he wasn’t sure how to work the machines, but when he noticed the helpful little stickies Phil had sneakily posted all around, he caught on quickly. It had taken Phil months to get the hand of all the tools they used (How can there be so many different variations on the same drink?) and those stickies had saved his ass many times over. He was very proud of them—they were color-coded and everything!

Phil smiled to himself, impressed, but not truly surprised, that Dan was able to master the tricky machines in such a short time. He was pumping out drinks almost as quickly as Phil in no time. Phil brushed past him as he jogged to a nearby table, dropping the tray down just gently enough to keep everything inside from exploding before pushing through the swinging partition and returning back to the kitchen. Phil was almost enjoying himself now, for whatever reason. He couldn’t explain it other than that having Dan around put him at ease. His jaw relaxed and he was able to focus on each drink, instead of the crowd of people waiting on him. Plus, Dan certainly eased the workload, and really, Phil almost couldn’t believe that this was real. That he was this generous and kind and, well, pretty. This sappy side needed to go away, and fast, ‘cause Phil had no clue where it was coming from, and he wasn’t used to it. At all.

“Hey, Phil, I’m glad I can help, but won’t the higher-ups or whoever get upset I’m back here?”

Phil smiled and reached around him to grab a lid, “Trust me, Dan, I, uh, I think you’ll be okay.”

He turned his head and saw the questioning look Dan was sending his way, just in time to see him take that fateful step backward without looking at the thick plastic mat that had bunched underfoot.

“Aah!” Dan’s scared face sped at Phil’s own. The shock had no time to register before Phil’s arms were reaching out to grab at him. Dan lurched forward violently, but Phil’s surprised hold remained strong and caught him. The two drinks he was clutching threatened to slosh over the side, but at the last second, Dan recovered them and himself with a grace Phil could never manage.

“Hey, you okay?” Phil asked, worried. He looked into Dan’s eyes. And all of a sudden, every single tiny inch of Phil’s tired body was tingling. The pads of his fingers were awash in the delicious warmth of Dan’s soft skin, the same warmth that was being sent up and down his body as their breath mingled.

“Yeah,” Dan murmured breathily. His fluttering, thickened eyelashes drew Phil in, his pupils dilated. There was a trail of shimmering sweat falling down his cheek onto his lips, and Phil allowed himself a moment of imagining kissing it off. He licked his lips and Dan’s eyes followed the motion. And lingered there.

Phil smirked at the younger boy and, after a subtle inhale for strength, began to––

“Hey!”

Phil snapped his head to the right, pissed. A middle-aged guy was standing there, a hand pressed against the counter, smudging it with his grimy fingers. His mouth was open, prepared to shout at Phil, presumably about the drink backup from the enormous crowd in the shop, but when he saw Phil’s patented death glare turned at him, he immediately shut it. With a terrified expression, he awkwardly raised his hands and did some strange pointing backward with accompanying mouthing like a fish before scuttling away.

Phil turned back to Dan, never once letting go, and found him looking at Phil with a rapt look. _Fuck, I want him._

And Dan seemed to have the same thought because all of a sudden, more than the socially acceptable parts of them were touching. Phil’s breath caught. But after a split second of hesitation, Dan moved away. With one last appraising look, Dan brushed past Phil to deliver the drinks. And Phil was stood, staring for a moment at the place where Dan used to be.

This boy was going to be the death of him.

“Phil!” Phil glanced around, looking for the source of what he thought was his name shouted above the crowd. But when he saw nothing, he shook his head slightly and turned around to keep making drinks. These people were already on edge and over-caffeinated and certainly didn’t need any more excuse to yell at the poor baristas. And now that Dan was included in that category, Phil wasn’t gonna take any bullshit.

Phil grabbed the blender, filled with frothy liquid, and whirled around. And as he was pouring it, probably too quickly, into the enormous plastic cup for whoever “Maureen” was, he saw a figure come through the little swinging partition and start walking toward him. _What the fuck? Who is that guy?_

Phil shot a remark at the man over his shoulder as he secured the lid into place with a harshness that made him worried that it would spill, “Excuse me, sir, you’re not allowed to–– _Martyn_?”

“Phil!” Martyn half-jogged over to Phil and clapped a hand on his back in true brotherly form. Phil spluttered and pulled him into a quick hug before releasing him and pushing him off too hard.

“Wha––I,” Phil cut himself off, “Go, go, there’s no time for breaks!” Phil commanded before turning back to his own tasks, “But I am glad that you’re back.” Martyn chuckled and quickly went through the motions of getting ready to work, making sure to scrub his hands thoroughly like he always did. Dan, thoroughly bewildered at this point, sent Phil a look but kept his questions to himself about who this random guy in a suit hugging Phil was and where he was “back” from.

The three worked in silence. Well, without speaking (the noise from the customers rivaled that of a packed football stadium). They slung drinks quickly, pouring and mixing and running like madmen and working as a team. Until finally, the line of cups along the counter was filled and sent off to their designated tables, and the three men were finally able to take a break.

Martyn turned to Dan, who was currently leaning against the little patch of bare wall at the back and stuck out a hand, “Martyn. Now that we finally have a chance to talk.”

Dan smiled back at him, extending his own palm, “Dan Howell.”

“Phil, I didn’t know you had hired anyone else! I’m glad that you’ve finally realized you need some help,” Martyn smiled, and Phil was quick to respond.

“No, no, Dan is, uh,” he looked at Dan for assistance, but he had no words either. Phil stayed silent and let his bad boy persona take over. He hoped that whole strong-but-silent thing would be enough, that he could masquerade as the front he put up and avoid questioning, but Martyn knew him too well. He smirked and just said, “Alright,” before going off to clean some tables after departing, sleep-deprived people.

Dan yawned a little yawn and turned to Phil after a moment, “What time is it?”

Phil checked his phone, suddenly feeling the fatigue as well, “About three. You can go home if you’d like.”

Dan nodded sleepily, “Yeah, alright.” He began to trudge out through the little swinging partition.

“Hey, Dan?” Dan turned his head back, “Thanks. For this.” Phil tried to infuse as much meaning into his words as he could. Using words to express emotion had never been his forte, but he tried his hardest. And Dan seemed to understand. He just nodded back, looking into his eyes, before pushing through to the cafe, evading lingering customers, and walking off into the city. He drifted away and Phil hoped he would get home alright.

“Dan, huh?” Martyn gave Phil a look, “Not your usual, uh, type.”

“He’s kinda... special, Martyn,” Phil said, putting gravel into his voice to offset the sentiment.  
 

“Yeah, alright. But Phil? Just make sure…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Phil said in a flat tone, but his tongue worried at his snakebites.

His brother knew him too well. He was there when Phil was figuring out the whole “wait, guys?” thing, when he got his first boyfriend, when he came home bruised and teary-eyed from school. He was there when Phil transferred to another high school, when he got his first tattoo. Then his next, and all the ones after that. And he was there when Phil began to shrink into himself and play a character and stop being honest when asked how his day was. And he was the one that saved him from himself when the character grew to be too much to handle and threatened to snuff out the quirky happiness in his soul. So basically, there was no hiding from Martyn.

He rubbed his shoulder for a moment in reassurance and took his little brother’s appearance into stock. His shoulders were slumped and arms hanging listlessly by his sides, and he was worrying a piece of his jumper between two fingers in his right hand, yanking at a loose thread.

“Go home, Phil,” he said softly but firmly, “I can finish up here.”

“Thanks, Martyn,” Phil yawned and pushed past him, leaving the kitchenette, before stopping abruptly, “Hey, wait, Martyn?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happened to the Iowa deal?”

Martyn broke out into a smile, “We got it! One down!”

Phil, despite realizing how exhausted he was, couldn’t help but grin back, “Just a million and three more!”

“A million and three more,” Martyn agreed with a laugh, “Alright, get outta here!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Spirits raised considerably, Phil smiled as he pushed through the glass doors. The cool air embraced him and he welcomed the slight sting.

Years ago, when they were younger, him and Martyn made a promise to each other. As drunken college promises go, it was pretty coherent, and Phil had no intention of breaking it now. They told each other that night that they were going to have a business together, and that it was going to be “the best goddamn business...y thing this universe has _ever_ , like, seen and stuff.” And that they were going to have “so many stores just all––all over the place.” But the problem was that neither of them remembered exactly how many stores they said they would have. And so the number continued to grow whenever one of them brought it up.

Phil smiled to himself as he walked under a glowing street lamp that flickered, sending electrical sparks out that were contained in the small clear box. As he strolled beneath it, tired beyond belief, it flickered out and died. Shadows engulfed the path. But Phil didn’t mind, not really. Phil just wanted to get home and get some rest. And so that’s exactly what he did.

He faded off to sleep that night with a tiny, content smile. His limbs weighed heavy on his mattress and, as he finally drifted off, Dan’s face, millimeters from his own, fluttered into his mind. He sighed peacefully and welcomed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than a Phil screwing around with every filter ig has to offer!


	5. Lazy Days and Surprise Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil wakes up, ready for another exhausting day at Lester Coffee, but a text from Martyn throws a wrench in his plans. He has a day off!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, my sweets...

Phil woke to the sound of his alarm clock screaming in his ear. He didn’t move, didn’t turn his head. He just opened his eyes wearily and stared at the ceiling before letting them flutter closed once more. But that _fucking_ alarm wouldn’t shut up. So he opened his eyes again and wiggled his big toe. Then his foot. Then his leg. Until it didn’t seem like such a daunting task to swing his lower half off of his bed and get up.

He had had the _genius_ fucking decision to move his alarm clock across the room a few days ago, and Morning Phil despised himself for it every time it forced him to get up to turn it off. Regular Phil didn’t mind, however, as it helped his tendency to be consistently late to everything ever, so the alarm clock stayed on the dresser.

Phil grumbled to himself and stalked to the alarm clock, slapping it so hard it hurt his hand.

“Stupid… that fucking…” Phil fumed, grumpy from the early morning. He would never get used to it. Though working in a coffee shop certainly helped perk him up a little on his worse days. As a little reward for actually getting up on time, Phil let himself get in some time on his phone before getting dressed. He unplugged it from the tangled cord, not bothering to straighten out the charger. It had been that way for months, why should he change it now?

He turned it on by pressing the home button, careful not to open it by accident in order to look at his notifications first. And lo and behold a text from Martyn.

“Hey don’t worry about coming in today. I can hold down the fort for now. Get some sleep.”

And with that one text, an enormous weight lifted off of Phil’s shoulders.

 _God bless Martyn! Sleep…_ Phil thought to himself, already starting to get back into bed. _Wait, why the fuck couldn’t he have told me that last night? I didn’t have to wake up at the crack of fucking dawn!_

Now thoroughly pissed, Phil typed out an angry message to Martyn but deleted it at the last second. He exchanged it with just, “thanks, man.” _Martyn doesn’t deserve that, I guess. Whatever. Just go to sleep, Phil._

So he threw his phone down, not bothering to make sure it wouldn’t crack. He was rough enough with it that at this point if it did crack it would be a miracle. A very disappointing one, but a miracle. Must a miracle, by definition, be an inherently good thing? Or are all circumstances that have infinitesimal probabilities of occurring miracles, regardless of the way they are interpreted? But with that, can’t all “miracles” be interpreted in an endless amount of ways so that things that could be regarded as “good” to one person be disastrous and heartbreaking to many others? Of course, that is a basic fact of life, but when one thinks about that, a new perspective can be gained to look back on history and approach it from a different point of view. And if one could potentially do this in regard to past battles, is it too much of a stretch to do the same to the battles one fights every day and consider the views of their “enemy” in a way that credits the thought and effort they put into their side? And is not that really the reasoning behind all major conflicts? The inability to consider another perspective? So is not the cure for the conflict of the world simply––

_Phil, you’re rambling. Shut up and try to sleep._

Phil crawled into bed and fluffed his pillow quickly before shoving his hands under it and laying his head down. It sank down and Phil sighed. The world quickly faded away.

 

***

 

Phil woke naturally hours later. It felt wonderful, slowly sliding into the real world, still wrapped in his blanket cocoon. His bed was soft and incredibly comfortable, even if it could have used another person in it, and Phil’s muscles wouldn’t cooperate when he told them to leave its warmth.

But he had to, already feeling slightly guilty for spending so much time relaxing, certainly not very used to this much free time, and so he regretfully got up and moving. Starting with checking his phone, of course. He only had a few notifications, and he opened Messages to delete his conversation with Martyn. He had had a lot of trouble in the past with storage space, and he found that deleting texts and saving photos in other locations would help him keep as much storage open as possible.

He quickly deleted the conversation and left the app. He paused, however, and reopened it, this time looking at the little bar that said, **Unknown Senders**. He clicked on the only conversation that came up when he opened it.  
           

> **From: Unknown**   
>  **To: Phil**
> 
> **Hey, it’s Dan. Martin gave me your number, said you’re at home today. Gotta say, no offense to your brother, my drink today’s just not the same…**  
>             

Phil smiled to himself. Martyn was on a roll today. He walked into his kitchen, not bothering to put on a shirt, and went about making himself some food. He didn’t spend a lot of time at home, preferring to snag quick meals if he could from the coffee shop and the sandwich shop next door for convenience’s sake, so he didn’t have a lot of food to work with. Or coffee, for that matter, which, when discovered by Phil, was unsurprising yet heartbreaking.

Phil ended up grabbing a sad old thing of yogurt that somehow hadn’t gone bad yet from whenever his most recent trip to the grocery was and sitting on the couch. He snapped a picture of his little meal and attached it to his next text to Dan after adding him to his contacts.  
           

> **From: Phil**   
>  **To: Dan**
> 
> **[Photo]**
> 
>   
>  **Yeah Im missing the coffee shop pretty bad rn lol. I don’t even have any coffee! How am I supposed to survive without coffee?**

  
Phil smiled as the message sent and scarfed down his yogurt. He sat back and realized something: he had no idea what to do. He had gone so long without any time to himself that he wasn’t equipped to deal with his newfound free time. Maybe video games?

Phil got up and walked over to his TV, searching around for a suitable game that was from this century and that he hadn’t played into oblivion. Eventually, he scrounged up Mario Kart and popped it in. _Why not?_

He settled back down on the couch with the controller and checked his phone. He scrolled through his few notifications and frowned. No new message from Dan. But his crops were ready! Phil archived that knowledge in his brain and decided to deal with it later.

He opened up Mario Kart and got it set up, his brain finally clicking back into gear as he remembered how it all worked. It had been a while, a few months, but Phil was the Lester Mario Kart Champion, and as Lester Mario Kart Champion, he had to keep his skills honed in preparation for the next family battle. Every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, every Easter, and every big family holiday that they were together, they hosted a Mario Kart tournament, and Phil had become complacent in his crown.

When he was younger, trying to sort out all the shit that was making his existence miserable, video games had proved a constant. There, he was in control and nothing could deter him from meeting his goals and being the best at whatever he sought out to do. The sense of accomplishment, pride, and joy that came from those video games was part of what kept him going. And fuck, Phil missed that feeling.

Phil cracked his knuckles and started to play. The familiar _beep beep beep_ of the starting countdown filled his ears and he smiled. He was king here.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door and he startled, quickly pausing the game. It wasn’t often that anyone came over, especially unannounced. He didn’t order anything, either. That he remembered, at least. And the deliveries usually went to his mailbox downstairs.

Puzzled, Phil stood and walked to the door. He peered in the peephole. And felt himself blush at the sight on the other side of the door. He felt a smile grow and, hoping the blush he felt was invisible to anyone else, swung open the door.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Phil asked. _Shit, was that rude?_

“A certain someone said he needed coffee, and we can’t have you dying off on my watch, now can we?” Dan smiled at him, wagging his left hand, in which he held a previously unnoticed cup. In his other, he had a little brown bag, and Phil’s stomach rumbled.

“You’re an angel, baby,” he said, “Come on in.” Phil moved to the side and held open the door for Dan. He brushed past him, and Phil caught another sniff of Dan’s delicious scent on the breeze he created. He wasn’t going to survive this man.

Phil shut the door and walked after Dan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments make me happier than Phil doing backflips into bed!


	6. An Exciting House Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan comes over bearing coffee on Phil's day off. And gets a little something in return...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the break! It'll never happen again, I swear! Enjoy, my sweets...

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Younger Phil would have waved them about in the air to make up for the absolute _waves_ of awkwardness pouring off of him (not very well, of course). Teenage Phil would have shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and sneered at anyone who could sense his discomfort. But today’s Phil, the one walking to his living room with a beautiful man in tow, didn’t have pockets for hand-shoving. Hell, he didn’t even have a shirt!

 _Shit, I really don’t have a shirt on, do I? Should I put a shirt on? I should probably put a shirt on. Unless he likes it. Does he look like he likes it?_  
Phil sneaked a glance at Dan’s face, judging the expression there.

_Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe I forgot I didn’t have a shirt on? Yeah, that’s it. Let’s see if he points it out. For now, act tough, Phil. Be you. Well sorta. Be sorta you. You know what I mean. The better you. Sexy._

Phil snorted to himself, breaking the silence.

_Shit. That wasn't the sexy you._

The embarrassed man's face went completely red. He tried to cover it up, but his charm was failing him today. He sat down with forced leisure, puffing himself up and taking up as much space as he could on the sofa. _Masculine._

Dan still hesitated, though.

Phil cocked an eyebrow, “Sit down, baby.”

He made it an order, but of course, left his personal softness in it. He would never be harsh to Dan.

Still, Dan hesitated, and Phil smirked.

“I won’t bite,” Phil added with a wink. _Unless you want me too, angel._

Phil blinked at himself when he spotted the pink patches of Dan’s cheeks as he joined Phil on the couch.  _I didn't say that out loud, right?_

“So what’d you bring me?” Phil asked.

“Uh.” Dan flicked his eyes down, “Just what I usually get. Hot, though. Not iced. It’s cool today. And, I mean, you’re sick. Which is why I’m doing this at all.” He huffed out an awkward laugh, “Plus a blueberry muffin. I don’t know much about, uh, treating sick people and all that, but I tried. Now that I think of it, this might not have been the best idea. Should I have just gotten chicken noodle soup or something instead? Oh, you must be tired. I could—”

“Hey,” Phil ordered, “Look at me.”

Dan meekly did so. He was so out of his element that Phil had to do a double-take at the peculiar blush taking over his beautiful face.

“Why are you so flustered, baby? It’s just me.” He tried to force all of his hidden softness into the words.

Dan stalled, “Uh.”

His eyes flicked downward again. But this time, they didn’t land on the couch, but instead on Phil’s naked chest.

Phil preened and leaned back, “I see.”

“N-no, I didn’t…” The blushing boy trailed off.

“Oh, that’s alright. Then would you like me to put my shirt on, baby boy?” His smug look only grew, knowing the answer.

Silence filled the apartment. Then, with a sudden boost of confidence, juxtaposing harshly with the dusting of pink across his round cheeks, Dan met his eyes, “Leave it off.”

Phil said nothing, never breaking the smoldering eye contact. He raised an eyebrow and in one smooth motion, he was suddenly in front of Dan, hands spaced on each side of his head. He licked his lips and breathed in the tantalizing scent of the younger man.

He hovered, considering. Making sure they weren’t touching but wishing desperately that they were. Dan’s eyes followed his tongue’s quick movements as it licked at his snakebites.

Phil leaned in slowly, eyes never breaking from the brunette’s. Movements snakelike and smooth, he tilted his head down to ghost his lips against Dan’s. The younger boy made no effort to move, just staring up at Phil as their lips brushed.

Abruptly, Phil’s right hand dropped from the couch and snatched the warm cup below, skimming against Dan’s in the process. He pushed off the couch and walked over to a nearby counter, “Thanks for the coffee.”

He glanced back to find Dan still frozen in place.

“Uh. Yeah, yeah, of course.” Something seemed to have just occurred to Dan and he made to leave, placing the muffin daintily on the coffee table, “I should probably get going, then.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, “You don’t have to, you know.”

The other boy wouldn’t meet his eyes, “I, uh, I’m three pages behind on my thing. I should really get going.” He started walking past Phil toward the door.

“Video games,” Phil singsonged.

Dan paused, looking back over his shoulder, “Mario Kart?”

“Hell, yeah.”

 

***

 

“No!” Phil yelled, dramatically throwing an arm over his face and flopping back onto the couch.

Dan preened next to him, “I told you I was good.”

“Shit, I thought you meant, like, you were decent! I am the _Mario Kart champion_!”

“Not anymore, you’re not,” Dan responded with a wink.

Phil sat up, eyes wide, “But I don't - but you won _all of them_! All of them! This has never happened before!”

“This is what you get for messing with the master.”

“‘The master,’ my ass.”

Dan raised an eyebrow, “Hey, who just beat you five times in a row?”

Phil sat back again, pouting, “You did…”

“The master,” Dan said, popping a piece of muffin in his mouth triumphantly, “So are you ready to throw in the towel yet, or what?”

“No, no. One more round. Just three races. All or nothing.”

Dan laughed incredulously, “Alright. But you know you can’t always pull that when you lose. For future reference.”

_Future reference? Fuck, yeah._

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil lit up with an idea, “Rainbow Road?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Phil snuck a glance as Dan maneuvered to pull up the race. It was obvious now that Phil might not have been in the number one position, unlike usual, and he needed to find a way to get back to the top.

As the three beeps signaled the start of the race, Phil realized exactly what he needed to do. He smirked to himself.

He started out small, with tiny movements that he knew Dan would be watching. A yawn, stretching out his muscles. Getting too invested in the game and leaning into Dan with a turn. Unknowingly leaving a hand on Dan’s thigh as he waited for a race.

And with every movement he made, he saw Dan grow a little stiffer. Sit up a little straighter. Make a small mistake in the game. Until he snapped.

Phil rounded the corner. They were almost tied. Dan was in first, less than a second in front of him.

He jumped to his feet, clenching his muscles in fake concentration. All of a sudden, Dan’s character veered off course, crashing into the wall. Phil raced past him, passing the finish line first with a whoop.

“Shit!” Dan yelped from behind him.

Phil laughed and crashed down next to him.

“Fuck,” Dan slapped at Phil’s arm, “That wasn’t very nice!” He pouted at his black-haired counterpart, who just laughed. The profanity was unexpected but rather endearing. Sometimes the gap between his pastel persona and the personality that slipped out was enormous–– and pretty damn adorable in Phil’s eyes.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“This isn’t a fucking rom-com, Phil. You’re not allowed to do that!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” He smiled mysteriously, licking quickly at his piercings.

“Oh, just shut up,” Dan’s eyes flicked down at his lips, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, do I now? Then what was I doing?”

“You were trying to - you were making me - you - I - _fuck_!”

Suddenly, Dan’s lips were pressed against Phil’s.

Phil startled. But he quickly pressed back against the brunette’s soft lips. Sparks rapidly traveled from their conjoined lips throughout his body. His body grew on edge and excited immediately, and a strange feeling happened in his chest.

All thoughts of the game flew from his mind as Dan licked at Phil’s bottom lip. He eagerly let him in and deepened the kiss.  
He watched as Dan’s eyes fluttered closed and pulled the brunette closer to him. The pair pressed together tightly, chest to chest. But Phil wanted more. So fucking badly.

Dan yelped softly as Phil pulled him in, mimicking his position from earlier, but with Dan on top, straddling his hips. When they settled in the new position, Dan let out a tiny noise and swung his hips down, grinding against Phil’s. Fire rose inside him and he bit at the other man’s lip. Dan groaned and Phil smirked against his mouth. _Interesting._

Their groins pressed together tightly, thick jeans meeting pajama pants, and Dan made a noise of frustration.  
Phil kissed him harshly, then stood up without warning, leaving Dan to clutch at his shoulders. He grabbed Dan’s ass and started to walk to his bedroom. Satisfaction filled him at the fact that he was able to so easily pick the brunette up, and the boy in his arms seemed to mirror the sentiment as he wildly kissed at Phil’s neck, causing him to stumble.

He pushed through the door to his bedroom, which was thankfully just around the corner, and threw Dan on the bed with a growl. As he dug around in his drawer, he saw Dan out of the corner of his eye palm at his crotch and push himself higher on the bed. When Phil finally found what he was looking for, he threw it somewhere in Dan’s general vicinity and reached over to stop the hand at Dan’s crotch. He gave him a warning look and climbed onto the bed, hovering over Dan, “Stop that. It’s my job, princess.”

Dan gulped and promptly removed his hand. Phil looked down at the clothed cock of the gorgeous boy in front of him.

He smirked.

_This is gonna be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm. Sorry. Maybe next chapter ;) Kudos and comments make me happier than Phil fantasizing about hot anime boys!


	7. The Morning (Or At Least the Shower) After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil wakes up to Dan in the shower and makes the obvious move to join him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, my sweets...

The sound of running water filled Phil’s ears. He sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed, leaning on his hand.

It wasn’t long before he made his decision and was pushing off the bed and walking toward the origin of the noise. He walked through the white door, which was left slightly ajar, presumably for him, and was hit with a wall of steam. Phil shut the door tightly.

He took a minute by the door for himself. As much as he would like it, standing naked in full lighting didn’t instill him with a lot of confidence. But his urge to join the figure behind the opaque glass door overpowered that to cower in the corner. By far.

As the co-owner of as large a chain as Lester Coffee, even if he wasn’t quite as involved in management decisions as his brother, he was rather well off. But even so, splurging on meaningless luxuries never appealed to Phil. There was, however, a rather large exception.

A year and a half or so back, Phil poured a fair bit of money, far more than he would usually allocate for such a project, into upgrading his bed and bathrooms. Most of the time spent at home was in one of the two rooms, anyway, so it made sense. Phil loved his new bathroom. And the brunette currently enjoying the many sprays of the shower jets didn’t seem to mind, either.

When Phil stepped into the shower, he encountered another cloud of warm water hanging in the air. But he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice much, in fact, other than Dan, just a few feet away. His gorgeous hair fallen on his face, and his body embraced by water spraying from all sides, he was captivating.

And he seemed to think the same about Phil. His eyes traveled the length of his body slowly, and his eyes filled with want as he was approached quickly.

Phil kissed him the moment he was close enough to do so. He could never get enough of this alluring man before him. Not even years of exploration, of finding every little spot, marking every little reaction, could satisfy him. He wanted _all_ of Dan. Wanting Dan before had light up his insides like a steady candle fire. But now, after last night… it consumed him like a raging forest fire.

They kissed slowly, long and lingering. If the night before had been all pent-up lust, today was reaffirming, saying _I’m still here_. Dan’s mouth, Dan’s kisses, still felt foreign to Phil, uncharted territory. He couldn’t wait to map out every centimeter with his own.

But all of a sudden, Phil realized that perhaps he might not have the time to do so. This wasn’t just a one-time thing, right? Come to think of it, he had no idea if Dan was interested in any sort of romantic relationship with him.

So Phil would have to make sure to make good use of the time he did have. And perhaps, if it all went alright, he would be gifted with more time with his angel boy.

His kissing became forceful, licking in and caressing Dan’s long tongue with hardly any self-control. He reveled in the electric feeling and the other man’s whisper-quiet moans.

Dan nipped at his lip and Phil was completely gone. Phil smiled into the kiss mischievously and, at a snail’s pace, sank to his knees on the hard tile. Dan’s eyes widened.

The ridges dug into the flesh of his knees, but all Phil noticed was the delicious shiver of anticipation and eagerness from his gorgeous boy. As he scanned Dan’s face for a change in expression, he leaned in. His breath ghosted over the tip of Dan’s flushed cock for just a moment before it was quickly engulfed by Phil’s wet mouth.

Dan’s knees tremored oh-so-slightly. Phil’s mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, brushing the very back of his throat. He swallowed just once before pulling off, tongue dragging along Dan’s length.

“Jesus fuck,” Dan murmured, looking down at smug-faced Phil, “I didn’t know it was fucking possible to be this turned on.”

With a single wink, completely aware of his own impressive abilities, he immediately returned to the task at hand. Or rather, “mouth”. He sucked the head into his mouth, sucking softly and running his tongue along its wet tip and underside.

Dan’s hands splayed against the wall, grasping for purchase.

Phil’s dexterous tongue lapped at and paid special attention to the sensitive slit. His right hand came up to Dan’s balls, which he knew from their rather adventurous night before, he loved being cupped. He licked and teased and fondled and rubbed and watched Dan quickly unravel. His breath came fast, fingers gripping at nowhere, and his mouth was open in a perfect O.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Phil began to take the ready dick fully in his mouth again. Dan’s head tilted down, following his movements with a primal expression. With constant eye contact, he sank down on his cock until he could feel the tickle of his curly hair on his face and the tip deep in his throat. He struggled, choking slightly, but it was worth it.

Dan’s mouth opened and his head thumped against the wall with a resounding thump that likely even Phil’s nosy neighbors could hear. And when Phil used his practiced tongue to curl around and do that one trick he’d learned in college, he let out the neediest moan ever to grace his ears. His leg muscles trembled before his eyes.

“ _Fuck_. Can I - just - please can I…” Dan forced his head back down to look at Phil. He slowly dragged down Dan’s cock, dragging his tongue along with him, and popped off. Spit and precum trailed behind, connecting them. He paused there, staring up half-lidded.

Dan made a vague noise resembling “fuck.” He seemed to like that word. Phil would have to make good use of that later.

“Yeah,” Phil said, voice breathy but surprisingly firm. The right words flew from his mouth without having to think. “Yeah, Dan. I want you to. Fuck my mouth. Fuck my mouth with your big cock.”

A groan - a _something_ \- came from Dan as he lined his cock back up and began to thrust at a rapid pace.

It was too much, far too much, and tears sprung in Phil’s eyes. Sharp pain laced his throat. He briefly wondered if his throat would rupture. The thought fled his mind when Dan let out a breathy moan that effectively rendered him unable to form any sort of thoughts. But the pain remained.

But he remained silent, except for only an unavoidable choking noise at first that only seemed to encourage Dan. Phil embraced the pain willingly, spectating the delicious sight of Dan, ecstasy driving him mad. Fire, hot as the kind building in his throat, raced through Phil and he almost could have come from only that. God, he loved this. He loved watching Dan be so out of it, so far gone, because of Phil. He loved the stinging in his throat, the aching in his cock, the flames in his belly. He could do it forever, all for Dan. He could give himself to Dan forever, to cater only to Dan and make the boy unravel with just a skilled touch or two.

And he could dominate Dan, make him beg and plead and squeal. And _God_ , to dominate this luscious boy. And he could make Dan be so desperate for his cock that he would go mad. Go absolutely crazy with the overwhelming desire wracking him. And then he could deny him release, deny him his own cock until all Dan could do was whine. Until he was a shivering mess of want and need. Until he was reduced to a primal, animal state and he couldn’t even form the words to say what he wants.

Make him pray desperately to a God he didn’t believe in. Make him cry out, so loud that those asshole neighbors wouldn’t shut their traps for weeks about it. Leave marks on his skin, claim him forever. Only Phil’s. Completely Phil’s. And Dan would know it, too; he would never disobey. Phil knew he would be the perfect little thing, doing exactly what he wanted him to do, cumming with Phil’s name on his lips.

He was leaking onto the floor, Phil knew. Suddenly, his fantasies and his reality crashed into one and his cock swelled, pressed against the slippery floor. It was almost unbearable, how much he craved touch there, his own or those belonging to the man whose cock was slamming so harshly against the back of his throat.

“ _Phil-Phil-Phil-Phil-Phil_!” Dan chanted, a touch too loudly, in time with his thrusts that wracked Phil’s poor opening. Phil snakes a hand down to stroke his own pulsating member. He could’ve cried from the pleasure of finally giving it the attention it had been begging for.

“ _Phil! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Phil, I’m gonna -_ ” Phil had no time to prepare. Thick liquid streamed down Phil’s throat. It was almost too much. His throat was almost too full. And Phil almost let some slip.

But he swallowed, hard, and felt it slide down his throat, leaving only the tangy taste. And with a loud moan of his own, he orgasmed, his fingers rubbing at his dick, and shot streams of cum all over the pair of them and the shower floor. He rode the familiar high, eyes pressed shut as his body shook from the force of it.

“ _Fuu -_ ”

He gasped for breath and finally, he could see straight again. Dan had slid down at some point, joining Phil on the floor. Instinct and habit drove Phil to immediately open his mouth, showing off his empty mouth and tongue. Dan’s eyelids fluttered.

“You’re going to kill me. Phil Lester is a murderer,” he murmured.

“Mm. Well, that’s a shame; I would so like to keep you around a bit longer.” Phil winked. Dan leaned in, an adorably dazed smile plastered on, and pressed a kiss to Phil’s lips. “Deal.”

But a thought occurred to Phil. He pulled away. “Only my first name was on my tag. Did you ask Martyn or something?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Totally.” Dan laughed awkwardly, pulling away slightly. Phil shrugged and stood up. He offered a hand and yanked Dan to his feet when he accepted it.

“It made sense, y’know, you owning the shop and all. Once I saw the bathroom. Not to mention the mountains upon mountains of games you had out there.”

Phil smiled sheepishly, “I may go a little overboard at times…”

“It’s an endearing quality.”

Dan and Phil smiled at each other, in post-orgasmic bliss, with lukewarm water cascading all around them. Dan wouldn’t leave the small apartment until late the next day. (When asked about who would cover his duties at Lester Coffee, Martyn just winked and said, “I got ya covered. Now get back to your boy toy, baby brother.” Phil had just smiled into the receiver and went to do exactly that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Dan on a family outing with the in-laws! (Can we please talk about how adorable they all are??)

**Author's Note:**

> More coming very very soon, stay posted!


End file.
